


Snow Drift

by gh0strobin



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Edling Week 2019, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, breath of the wild AU, zelda au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 02:10:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19285975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gh0strobin/pseuds/gh0strobin
Summary: BotW AU, where Ling is Prince of Xing(Hyrule.) He’s supposed to be able to feel the Dragon Pulse, supposed to be able to stop what’s coming like his Father and his Father’s Father before him. He goes to the Spring of Power to see if he can trigger his abilities. His faithful Knight follows him.





	Snow Drift

**Snow Drift**

_If snow can drift, so can leaves and dust and responsibilities. – Neil Hilborn, “Snow Theory”_

Ling stared at the lump of rock. The scene was picture perfect: light filtered through the clouds to shine pointedly on the statue, silent princes glowed in the shadows, and his Knight stood with his back turned in an illusion of privacy. Ling had never been more miserable.

The rock remained a rock. No sweet voice called out to him. No power thrummed through the water. Nothing happened at all except now his legs were wet. The dread gnawed its way up his spine. Fear clawed at his throat. He could feel the walls of expectation closing in on him. Suddenly the Spring was claustrophobic. All the empty space above him meant nothing because he could not see the sky.

“Why can’t I hear anything? Why can’t I do this? What’s wrong with me?” His question bounced back to him, louder as it echoed off the rocks. He couldn’t even revel alone in his anguish successfully. Ed must have heard.

He took his time turning around. If he moved slowly enough, Ed would give up trying to sneak a look before Ling faced him. Then he could avoid his face for the rest of the day.

He dove under the water. White robes rose in a cloud above him. The water wasn’t deep enough to fully submerge but with his head between his knees he couldn’t see or hear anything.

He looked around. The Spring was peaceful. A frog pushed its way along with its powerful legs. The glow of a silent prince cast his voluminous robes in soft blues, completing the illusion he’d dove into a cloud. He wondered how long he could hold his breath. He started counting the stones until he could feel his lungs burning.

He’d reached sixty before a boot interrupted his counting. He didn’t have time to ready himself. A hand grabbed his robe and pulled him up to his knees. Water dripped down his forehead and nose, dribbled down to his chin. Like he’d planned, all the salty tears he’d cried had been left behind in the Spring.

“What were you trying to do, drown yourself?” Ed’s usually calm voice snapped. The Knight’s temper didn’t act up much, and almost never at Ling. Duty all but forbade it. When the Knight did get angry, a sticky embarrassment clung to Ling until he’d been properly restored to Ed’s good graces.

“Don’t be silly, there can’t be more than two feet of water here. I was having a swim is all.” Ling waved Ed’s worry away and stretched his lips into a smile.

“You’re wet and we’ve got to get back to the palace. The air is freezing.” Ed squeezed one of Ling’s long sleeves. Water streamed between his fingers and splashed into the pool. “You’ll get hypothermia.”

“Not with your determination—I’m sure you’ve already got a plan to make me all better again.” The outfit was heavy and cold and cumbersome. His horse hadn’t liked it anyway. He’d told his father he disliked the outfit, but the Spring of Power was sacred and so his clothes must be too. He should have brought a change.

Ed watched him for a moment, hands resting back on their sword. His metal fingers twitched every few seconds, though Ed didn’t seem to notice. Ling noted Ed’s flesh hand had no such tics. He had noticed too many things too often about the Knight. His contemplative eyes at dinner when he ate with his brother and brainstormed strategies to defend the Palace. His heavy smile whenever he returned from Zora’s domain with new Winry tales. His silent anger in meetings where Revali spoke over Ling in favor of the bird champion’s own ideas. The King would not approve.

Princes did not fall in love with Knights. Certainly not a Prince whose destiny was very clear. He would defeat Ganon. There was no time for anything else.

“It is my duty to protect you. Understand?” Ed’s face burned red.

Ed took off his tunic. There were scars beneath. Old ones, like the rugged edge of his automail and the small cut under his eye. Ling saw newer ones, too. Fresher, pinker than the others. A long scar across his side—a misstep with the Master sword—was the newest. Ling thought he could still see a few marks where the stitches had only just healed.

Ling had been so concentrated on Ed’s chest and arms he hadn’t fully recognized what Ed offered. Ling didn't register what he was meant to do until he saw the blue tunic hanging from ticking fingers.

“You want me to wear that?”

“The robes are the heaviest clothes you’re wearing, which means they’ll take the longest to dry. We don’t have that kind of time. With that much water freezing on you, you wouldn’t make it three steps.”

Ling frowned. “What will you wear?”

Ed gestured over his bare torso. “I’ll be fine.”

Arguing would be fruitless. Ed had done this sort of thing before. Ling suspected acts of pointed selflessness made him feel heroic. The knight had few chances to prove himself so far but the King said that would be changing soon. No doubt Ed would be more than ready. Already the Knight was proficient in sword work, had proven himself to a begrudging Revali, endeared himself to Armstrong in Goron. In a matter of time, Riza would tell Ling about some amazing feat he pulled in Gerudo.

“Why do you look like that?” Ed didn’t turn around while Ling took off his robes. But he didn’t watch him either.

“Like what?”

Ed was silent for a moment. Ling could hear the ticking. He’d hear that sound forever. He was certain of it. “Like you’re hollow,” Ed finally turned to look at him when the tunic fell over his head. “All the way through here.”

Ed poked Ling’s chest with an automail finger.

Ling’s mouth fell open. A whirlwind of emotion spun through him at once but only one thought fought its way up his throat. “How do you see that?”

Ed must not have expected him to answer. He took a step back, cleared his throat, and turned towards the exit. “We should hurry, before the night gets too cold.”

The snow fell lazily outside the Spring. Small piles of new and clean white powder covered their dirty footprints from their long trek. They wouldn’t be getting home tonight—not if this was any indicator of how the weather would go. Ling shivered, but didn’t say anything about the cold. With Ed’s automail, they couldn’t spend long in the open. He'd read horror stories of automail in the winter.

“I think I saw a cabin a little way up the hill.” Ed waved a hand toward a hill among hills. Ling never knew where his Knight was taking him when they went off route. He’d learned Ed would take care of things, as long as one didn’t question him too much.

Ling plucked silent princes as they climbed, tucking them into the wrap around his torso. He stumbled when the ice on his legs began to numb his feet. After the third time, Ling tripped over a stone hidden beneath the snow. He landed with all his limbs splayed out, his face crunching frostbitten grass and twigs. Several of the silent princes had fallen from his wrappings and crumpled beneath him.

Ed sighed and doubled back. They had an awkward few minutes where Ed struggled to position Ling on his back. Ed put his fingers in his lips and blew out a whistle that rang in Ling’s ears.

They hadn’t gone more than a few yards before the horses showed up. Ed lay Ling across his and set to work tying both horses together. “I wanted to avoid using the horses. They’re big and noticeable. We don’t have a lot of cover. I just don’t think either of us will get very far on our feet.”

Ed talked to him steadily on the rest of the trip. Ling trembled. His hair froze to his face. His hands shook. He grew so tired, so ready to be home and warm and asleep before the next day’s worries. He forced himself to stay awake so he could hear the rest of Ed’s story.

It was a pleasant story—one Ling had heard before. Ed’s brother had been a royal guard before him. Alphonse was good enough to lead his class. They’d all expected the sword to choose him as the hero. Instead, it hadn’t reacted at all to Al’s touch. The relief rolled off him in waves, hastily covered by a false disappointment. Al's reprieve was temporary. For weeks they scrambled to test the sword with every knight. None of them worked. The King was ready to choose the sword's owner himself if nothing changed.

Then Ed came to visit Al from his travels in Goron city. His skin was bronzed in those days. Months out of the scorching heat made him pale now, like his brother. Ling knew then he’d be the one. A coil had begun to tighten the day Ed came into the Palace. It tightened with every step they took towards the Calamity. Ling brought Ed to the weapon’s room. He’d disguised the sword as a plain weapon, wrapped in an unremarkable cloth.

The cloth, oiled and browned with dirt, hadn’t hidden the bluish gleam. Ed’s fingers wrapped around the hilt and they’d hurtled toward the end.

Another three weeks passed before Ed realized he’d been lured into the weapon’s room by the Prince of Xing.

Al was the one who’d told him after he saw Ed and Ling drinking late into the night in Ed’s small cabin. The Master sword rested in the corner after Ling “gifted” it to him.

Ling remembered Al walking in. Ling wasn’t nearly as drunk as he’d pretended to be. Al thought he was revealing an amazing secret. Ling felt as though the young knight had stolen a precious gift.

Ed’s laughter faded that night and never fully returned.

He must have dozed. The next thing he knew, Ed jostled him awake in front of a fire.

“I know you’re tired, Prince.” Ed poked some fish with a stick. He had his shirt back. Ling’s robes had been freed of their long sleeves and half their length to hang over a fire. The cabin was more like a shack. Ling counted only one room and no amenities.

They must be in a town lost to the Lizalfos. Ed had cursed a dozen times when they’d discovered the new breed of monsters with horns that gave off electric currents.

“You never answered my question.” Ed flipped a sizzlefin trout into the embers. The skin would taste like char and the meat would be unevenly cooked. Even still, Ling appreciated Ed had listened the last time they’d talked about his research.

“You never answered mine.”

Ed hummed. It was a sweet sound. From what Ling gathered, it was an old lullaby his mother had used to play for him. He’d told Ling, in their fleeting time as just two people who’s met by chance, that when his mother sang to him time stood still. The severity of the memory, the suffocating sorrow, had knocked Ling breathless.  

Ed covered the fish in embers. He finished his song and set his eyes on Ling. “I watch you. You separate yourself from the other Champions. You are fiercely protective of all of Xing, and of the others, but you refuse to get close.”

Ling smiled. His thoughts were groggy and slow but he knew he didn’t want to answer that question. Not really. “I am meant to die, aren’t I? What is the point of getting too close?”

Ed nodded. “I understand. All I can think of when I hold this sword is how likely I am to lose my brother. I’ll never be able to punch my dad in the face like I want to.”

Ling snorted. “You want to punch your dad in the face?”

“Don’t you want to punch yours?”

Ling laughed. Snow flurried in through a window. The cold outside could not reach him through the fire. “My dad is the King.”

“And yet, despite his divine rule, he can’t seem to grasp the value of your research.”

Ling curled into a tight ball.

Ed had been stationed outside his door the night his father came into his room. Ling hadn’t gone to his meetings that day. He’d spent the day studying hearty salmon instead. He’d found that combining salmon and truffles could produce a meal that significantly reduced one’s chances of becoming mortally injured in a fight. He’d had the best knights testing out his meals for weeks now. He’d had even greater luck with elixirs.

The elixirs had been the final straw for his father.

_Don’t you think you risk his life enough having him accompany you to all of your trips out to the abandoned camps? He should be here, training! Not gathering up lizard tails and octorok eyeballs for your childish playing!_

His father had been right. Like he would be right when he was angry with Ling for being late coming home. How could he take his destiny if he couldn’t stop playing with bugs and frogs and critters?

“My brother had one of those hasty elixirs. You know, the ones with that frog you showed me? He was able to outrun a Moblin just as it turned the corner. It saved his life.” Ed pulled the fish from the embers. “Your research is about to save ours.”

Ling ate the fish greedily. The skin was unseasoned, and more than once he bit into soft, under-cooked spots. As he ate it, warmth returned to his joints. His stomach burned like a hot coal, but his muscles and bones were pleasantly warm. Ed finished two trout in the time it took Ling to eat one. When they’d finished, they sat back happily full.

“Well, now that we don’t have to worry about freezing to death for the next several minutes, we can relax.”

Ling laughed. The sound started as a chuckle, then spread until it boomed through his chest. He couldn’t remember a time he’d ever relaxed. The closest he’d come had been when he was lying to Ed.

“Tell me, Ling.” Ed rested his head in his hands. “Why don’t you ever speak of your mother?”

Ling’s laughter stopped. He tried to recall the woman. He sensed kindness, sorrow, worry. He remembered a tiredness he could feel deep inside her. Her face, he couldn’t remember. She just looked generic in his mind—dark hair, average weight and height. Faceless. “I don’t remember her well.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok. She didn’t die when I was young. She just. Was always busy. My lessons on the Dragon's Pulse are usually guided by a friend or relative. Mother was supposed to be mine, but a stray bokoblin got her when she was on the way back from Gerudo. So far, nothing has replaced what she was meant to do. I think my father suspects they got it wrong this time. About me. Shiekah people wrap themselves in their mysteries and never consider how rude it is to other people.” Ling shrugged. He tried to keep the motion easy and lazy, but his shoulders were too heavy. “Maybe my father is right.”

Ed frowned. “Maybe the sword is wrong, too. I’d never considered being a knight before this. I was always intent to be a traveler.”

“Are you kidding me? I had my doubts when we first started—not of you, mind, but of all of this. But you’ve picked up sword fighting almost overnight. The other knights are jealous. You are excelling at your destiny.”

Ed gave a dissatisfied grunt. He pulled Ling’s dismantled robe down from the fire. “It’s warm. We should try to get some sleep. We’ve got to head out tomorrow.”

Ling nodded. He feared he’d somehow insulted his Knight, and he wasn’t sure how. He’d meant to be encouraging. Complimentary even. He decided not to risk speaking any more.

Ed lay on his back. The shack had nothing in the way of a bed or cushion. Likely, the people had taken what they could carry and the Lizalfos had destroyed the rest. Ling’s earlier nap hadn’t done much in the way of rest, but even still, he found himself unable to keep his eyes closed.

Instead his gaze drifted to Ed laying restlessly, fingers tapping out a soft rhythm on the stone floor. After a while, he looked out the window to the silvery moon. They were lucky the moon hadn’t turned red. It had taken to doing so the last few months, at random. And when it did, the monsters seemed to come out in droves.

“Tomorrow we could take the long way around, if you’d like. I know you’ve been running low on hot-footed frogs. We could catch some. Maybe some of those hearty lizards, too.” Ed’s tapping stopped.

“The King would be—”

“And I could try to practice fighting these lizard fellows. We could see about making Al some more potion.”

“It’s an elixir.” Ling’s lips twitched into a smile of their own accord. In the dark, the smile was for no one but himself.

“After all this is over, and Ganon is defeated…” Ed’s tapping resumed. “Do you have any plans?”

Ling remembered the fate of every Prince in his role. There would not be an after. Not for a long time. “Not really, no.”

Ed moved across the fire, until his body was inches from Ling’s. “We should go see Goron city together. They eat rocks there. Shaped like meat. I don’t know how it works exactly, but you may be able to get Daruk to show you.”

Ling closed the gap. If his Knight was offering to keep him warm and speak of future plans, he’d not turn him away. It would be nice, for once, to imagine a future where he was not smothered under the weight of Xing. Or any future at all, for that matter.

“What is Goron city like? What were you doing there?”

Ed began to tell him stories about a stone and the power to ward off attacks. Ling listened, mainly to the cadence of his voice, and watched the snow drift outside. He pretended not to notice Ed’s hand reach for his. Despite his efforts, Ling drifted off in the middle of Ed’s story.

The Knight didn’t seem to mind.

They both deserved a long rest.

 

 


End file.
